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[personal profile] commotiocordis
How did I spend my afternoon? Oh, Google!stalking my old orchestra teacher and rocking back and forth on the couch over how much I miss having a reason to wake up in the morning.

Basically, had a dream last night where somehow I was back in my middle/high school orchestra (but actually in college), and being horrid and clumsy and knocking over cellos and everybody hated me but she didn't. Somehow I'd forgotten I had to wear the uniform to the last orchestra concert so I was sort of sneaking away to put my viola away and just leave, pretend like I hadn't been there to play at all because I stuck out so badly with my wrong colored shirt, but she stopped me and there was hugging and she was crying because she said she was going to miss me and alsdkjflkj feels. I was explaining that I wasn't actually graduating this year because I'd taken this semester part-time because I was crazy and then I got more crazy and I didn't know where I'd be in the fall or even if I'd be around and not tied up with a feeding tube or dead somewhere (all actually true for right now) but I'd really really like it if I was in orchestra and then she was all "Oh, honey," and crying more because she actually gave half a fuck about me and at one point she sort of picked me up and held me and I do not do physical comfort from people but she has always been somehow the exception and it was glorious and I woke up crying but not in a sad way; because I felt loved, and I was going back to orchestra, and everything would be more tolerable because I would have that again.

But now I'm sad, because obviously that's not true.

Idk, there have been maybe two people in my life that I have really attached to, people who I actually felt ~loved me (and who I loved back), and she was the first. Late elementary/early middle school was when my crazy started to first pop out, and there were large swathes of time where the fact that I was -- I called it "in love with her", but it was hero-worship love, not romantic -- and I felt like she would be sad if I wasn't in orchestra the next day was literally the only thing keeping me alive. But it was usually more than that, because she also made it so I would want to be alive because I wanted to be in orchestra the next day. I was a part of something bigger than me, and I had all my music synesthesia and Stendhal syndrome feels, and the fact that I had something I was really good at, and the general alsdkfjalsdjl that playing in orchestra gives me, but also it was a safe place because she cared about me, and it didn't matter that nobody else in the room even knew my name she knew and she made me feel valued and worthy of being there and being alive.

I've been trying to figure out why I sort of attached to her (because I doubt if you asked her to name off her ~special-est students ever that I would come to mind, but please no one ever ask her to do that because part of me still wants to think that yes she does remember me more fondly than most) and I think it comes back to being treated like an adult. She talked to you like an equal, even as a snot-nosed little kid, and for someone who'd always sort of felt off-par with her peer group, that in combination with the heightened emotion that music causes in me anyway sort of made me latch on? And then it makes sense that she (and high school BFF) would be the only person I was really comfortable receiving physical affection from, because I actually believed it was genuine. Maybe I don't hate touching so much as I hate pretension and letting people into my bubble who don't mean it for ~obligatory hugs or some such.

But yes, latch on. Which is how I ended up pretty much running our orchestra group at age 13 and proofreading her thesis and volunteering for literally everything because I was desperate to be around The Only Person who treated me like I was worthy of being on this planet.

Ahahaha, no wonder I have such issues with self-worth. This is why I avoid emotional entanglements: delusional, romanticized reminiscences of an orchestra teacher and vague resentment of the high school BFF who didn't fight for me when things got rough and went on to bigger and better things while I'm a college drop-out with no prospects. (Also, Asperger's Syndrome, crippling social anxiety, a plethora of mental illnesses, etc., but my track record doesn't make me want to try.)

I wish I knew the answer. I wish I could tell people what I needed. I wish I could elucidate exactly what I mean when I say that I want someone to make me feel important and loved and valued, that I want someone to fight, to step out of the box and show me that they actually give a damn, that I'm not just being tolerated, that they prefer to be around me/be there for me/do this for me/do this with me. To give, but not only when I'm taking; I want to be offered, if that makes sense. Having to ask makes it (whatever 'it' is) feel less genuine, which is stupid and how I end up not getting anything I want/need by expecting people to just offer things, but welcome to my brain.

This is totally irrelevant to what I started talking about. To bring us full circle: I wish fictional!Michelle existed and would cuddle me in the corner of her orchestra room and magically make everything better with her amazing powers of Music and Treating Me Like A Person. Thanks a lot, random dream.

December 2014

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